Welcome to Gaia! ::

Ah, yes, Tacrith was not only a non-proponent but a firm non-proponent of the gods and fate. Ozzrick, not being the sort to put names on it all himself anyway generally, had meant it more as an open thought than something to be taken literally. But.

At the latter request, Oz nodded, and lead the way back below deck. His own cabin was a space to itself at the stern, under the quarterdeck. Further along was the crew bunk space—namely a section of hull with minimal to no dividing walls, but a number of stacked bunks and hammocks, strung between whatever solid pillars of wood the interior hull design had to offer for supporting such things from.

“Your options are somewhat your own in regard to the specifics,” he admitted. “Since you’re an unexpected guest, you are welcome to bunk with the rest of the crew and I will have a hammock strung for you, though the privacy is minimal. Or…” He hesitated. He didn’t know if it would even be a preferable option to the man and he didn’t want to sound needlessly off-color, but he supposed there was no blanket problem with leaving the choices open. “You are welcome to find space in my cabin to set up for sleep. It would be only slightly more private, but you could trust in having walls about you at least, and likely space to yourself for most of the day, as I prefer the sunlight until actual sleeping hours are upon us.”

Ozzrick did his best not to look visibly amused by the doctor’s squinting. It really must be a frustrating situation for him. But, Oz still could not help but be aware that this young doctor’s life had probably been nothing but smooth sailing, metaphorically speaking, and success thus far, clean beds and a stable home all to himself.

It wouldn’t kill him to spend a fortnight on a trade ship for flavor. Even a few snores wouldn’t spell death. And if the result was such a nose-wrinkle attitude that the man ended up in his own cabin, well.

He might have preferred the privacy under normal circumstances, but in this case, the newness of it seemed to make whatever hassle worth it, and he found he liked that choice better somehow.

“Very well.”

He took just the step back down the way that it required and opened his cabin door. It’s windows overlooked the sea on each side, and while it was not a large space, by necessity on a reasonably compact ship, he had made it his own, filled already not only with the essentials—bedding, maps—but also a number of personal trinkets. A decorative hanging shawl that was his mother’s; a collection of trinkets and wooden carvings he had personally collected over his years of travel, small boxes containing various personables, and a large chest stuffed at the foot of his cot. A round desk, atop which several things were already scattered.

“I’ll have to find some spare bedding to arrange in here if you’d prefer it to the crew space,” he said. Unless you want to share my bed. That portion didn’t seem to be a necessary addition for clarity.

It was a relief, at least, to watch the man visibly calm, if not entirely. When ‘perfect’ was impossible, ‘better’ would have to suffice. Ozzrick nodded.

His crew would have a few questions—and he for them, for that matter. But the specificities of which were not Tacrith’s concern to bear. For the moment, he considered it sufficient to fetch bedding, arrange for a spot Tacrith could take when he grew tired enough to make use of it, and then leave the man be for a time. All things considered, he was handling it remarkably well, for a sheltered islander yanked as abruptly from everything he knew as could be, and he was a private individual.

He deserved the time to himself, for now. Hopefully, the coming weeks would not be as jarring and unwelcome as they might, but being that much of that was in the hands of chance, Ozzrick could only hope — and pray — if not to any named god, than to whatever powers dictated the ways of the universe. He liked to entertain the thought that at least sometimes, things occurred for a reason, even if no one was ever fully privy to it.